Unexpected Ends
by PyroChilde
Summary: Harry Potter, at the ripe old age of fourteen, had come face to face with the prospect of death many times in his short life and yet he knew that this time it would all be different. Oneshot, please r&r!


Title: Unexpected Ends  
Author: PyroChilde  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, none of the characters do. I just like to play with them for my own twisted amusement.  
Summary: Harry Potter, at the ripe old age of fourteen, had come face to face with the prospect of death many times in his short life and yet he knew that this time it would all be different.

It was a strange thing, knowing that you were about to die and that nothing you did could stop it. In what was sure to be the last moments, there was a curious mix of absolute dread and resigned peace. Harry Potter, at the ripe old age of fourteen, had come face to face with the prospect of death many times in his short life and yet he knew that this time it would all be different. There were no friends by his side to come to his aid now. There would be no last minute intervention from a loyal Phoenix. Nothing and no one would save the young boy this time and he vaguely thought that, after everything he'd faced in his short years, that his end was quite anti-climatic.

A storm raged outside of number four Privet Drive but it was nothing compared to the rage being unleashed within. Vernon Dursley, it seemed, had finally snapped. It had been an off-hand comment really, a reminder to the horrible people he was forced to live with that there was someone out there that cared about his well being. Harry had only just mentioned his Godfather, not really meaning it as a threat, but it had sent his uncle into a rage like nothing Harry had ever experienced. The man's thunderous roars filled the small house as he turned on the young boy in a fury.

Harry was completely unprepared for his uncle's wrath. Sure, there had been harsh words and a slap or two in the past but it had never been anything like this time. Vernon's fist had shot out like lightning to connect solidly with the young boy's right temple. Stars danced before his eyes as he lay dazed on the floor. This first blow was followed by a vicious kick in the ribs and Harry felt the bones shatter at the extreme pressure. Sharp pains ripped through the child as he lay unmoving on the floor. Every breath was agony and Harry was vaguely aware that he tasted blood. It was only the beginning of the man's wrath. Large hands snaked around Harry's throat and squeezed. Darkness swam before Harry's eyes at the lack of oxygen and the sudden onslaught of intense pain. He wasn't aware of being shaken, his head slamming into the wall behind him as his uncle screamed in his face. All Harry knew was pain and then blessed darkness.

The slight reprieve of unconsciousness did not last long and when the young wizard opened his eyes it was to find the still raging man towering over him, hands balled into fists at his side. As soon as his bright green eyes drifted open, the punishing blows came again. Each was punctuated by an accusation of some sort but Harry was too far gone to hear any of it. He felt the bones in his face shatter under powerful fists, felt his lungs struggle to take in air as they filled with his own blood. For just an instant, the boy wondered _if only I could get to my wand…_ but it was no use now. There was something within him that whispered that it didn't matter, it was already too late. When those powerful hands grabbed him again by the throat, this time to carry him to the basement stairs and fling him down into the darkness, Harry knew that it would be the last place he ever saw.

The-Boy-Who-Lived fell in a crumpled heap on the concrete. Each breath was that much harder to draw in and more agonizing at that. It was a strange thing, knowing that you were about to die. For an instant the boy thought of his friends, his professors, and finally of the godfather he'd only just learned he had. For an instant he wondered how the news of his death would reach them and what the wizarding world at large would say when they discovered that their great savior was beaten to death in his own home (if one could ever call number four a home) by his great muggle of an uncle. The child shuddered once, twice, and then his last breath left his body. All was still, all was silent.

It would only be a matter of hours before Albus Dumbledore became aware of the terrible events that night. It would be mere moments, after his horrible mistake was realized, that the headmaster informed one Sirius Black of the fate of his only godson. The next morning muggle papers would proclaim the savage deaths of Vernon and Petunia Dursley and their strange nephew, Harry Potter. The wizarding world would awake to heart-breaking headlines about the murder of an amazing, innocent child at the hand of the filthy muggles he'd had the misfortune of calling family. All around the world, witches and wizards would weep at the loss of a child they never knew but loved all the same, the brave little boy that had survived so much in their own world only to have his life cut short by a truly vile man. The world would marvel at the injustice of the defeater of You-Know-Who being beaten to death in his own home while the people that had truly known the boy sobbed and screamed out their grief. Alone in the darkness a brown-gray wolf and a dog black as pitch howled at the full moon, their sorrowful laments a testament to their pain. Harry Potter was dead and for many, the world would never be the same.

Note: Alright, this is one of my very first Harry Potter fics and I'd appreciate any type of feedback. Let me know if its completely horrible or, even better, if you liked it: ) Thanks! -PyroChilde-


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